Mischief Managed
by Emery Saks
Summary: When Marian Paroo Hill comes home early one Saturday afternoon, she is amused to find her husband struggling to rectify the mischief caused by their five-year-old son, Eli.


Marian Paroo Hill was grateful for the rush of cool air that greeted her as she stepped inside her home. The summer heat which had settled across River City earlier in the week had steadily become warmer as the day progressed and, by noon, even her most-dedicated patrons had chosen to pursue cooler pleasures at the Candy Kitchen or Madison Lake. She couldn't blame them: the ceiling fans in the library afforded little relief from the burgeoning heat, and after 45 minutes passed without a single visitor, the librarian decided to close the library and return home to what would hopefully be cooler surroundings.

As Marian placed her hat in the front closet, she was immediately struck by the rare sound of silence. Although her time at the library had lessened considerably since her daughter's birth, she still worked the occasional Saturday. When she did, Harold usually remained home to watch their two children. She had been hesitant at first, as Harold had plenty of projects that required his attention at the Emporium, but after a lengthy discussion, her husband had convinced her that his Saturday workload could be attended to just as easily at home as it could at the store. Besides, he had quipped, even she with her saintly patience needed a reprieve from the boisterous clamor of their home every now and then. At that, Marian had smiled and graciously conceded defeat. Harold was correct: boisterous was a fairly accurate description of the state of the Hill household. Usually upon her arrival home, Eli would bound into the front hallway and wrap his arms around her waist, while gleefully regaling her with his morning adventures and asking if she had brought him a new book home. Her son's eager entreaty for books always warmed Marian's heart, and she took a quiet glee in nurturing his love for the written word. As she patiently listened to his barrage of tales and questions, Harold would watch all of it with an amused smile, then lean over and give her a hello kiss before transferring their daughter into Marian's waiting arms. But today, there was no energetic five-year-old, no smiling husband and no gurgling daughter to greet her. Marian's brow furrowed in confusion. Surely Harold would have phoned had he stepped out with the children for the afternoon. It wasn't like her husband to simply take the children somewhere without consulting her. A twinge of worry began to lurk at the back of her mind, but it quickly vanished when she heard an annoyed grunt emanate from the dining room.

Making her way through the parlor, Marian was relieved to find Harold hunched over the table fiddling with something. Upon closer inspection, she could see him vainly sticking a piece of straightened wire into his favorite York mouthpiece.

Stifling her laughter at the unusual sight, she quietly observed her husband's futile struggle until he finally looked up and saw her leaning against the doorframe. His eyes widened and the mouthpiece slipped from his hands.

"Marian! You're home early!"

Marian couldn't help chuckling at her husband's surprise at her unexpected presence. "Well, it seemed no one was interested in Shakespeare or Edith Wharton," she explained and closed the distance between them to give him a quick kiss. Harold pulled her closer to extend their hello, and when he released her, Marian gave him a conspiratorial smile. "Since I didn't have any patrons, I decided to come home and spend this lovely afternoon with my husband and children."

At that, Harold let out a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort and then returned his attention back to the mouthpiece, his wife's suggestion of family time apparently discarded.

Curious as to his sudden change in demeanor and realizing the unusual quiet might have something do with it, Marian glanced around the parlor before inquiring, "Harold, where's Eli?"

"I sent him to your mother's lest I do something I regret."

Quite familiar with the tone in which that statement was uttered, Marian chose not to press for an explanation. "And Elizabeth?" she asked.

"_Beth_ is over there," he said, nodding at the bassinet near the window. Marian rolled her eyes at her husband's subtle emphasis on their daughter's unofficial nickname. The two had easily settled on Elizabeth Margaret, the latter after Marian's mother and the former after the famous poet, but Harold had insisted on referring to their daughter as Beth. Although Marian occasionally scolded her husband for the affectionate nickname, she secretly thought it quite charming and was delighted to observe Harold's doting nature when it came to their daughter. When Eli was born, Harold's pride was evident to everyone. A healthy son, who resembled his father even in infancy, Eli had quickly displayed Harold's inherent curiosity and vivacious appetite for life. Father and son spent numerous hours together, taking walks throughout River City and visiting Madison Park. When Eli was old enough, Harold began to take his son to the Emporium, letting the young boy play on the floor beside his desk while Harold tended to what Marian knew he hoped would someday become the family business. He had confided it'd been somewhat startling to realize there was another Hill to carry on his name, but as the idea settled, his bright smile became brilliant and his demeanor more boisterous than before.

However, the birth of his daughter had a markedly different effect on the charming professor. His often-ebullient nature softened whenever he took his little girl into his arms and the fast-talking, gregarious salesman became a gentle and soft-spoken father. A few weeks after Beth was born, Marian had awakened in the night and, as was her habit, reached out to rest her hand against her husband's slumbering form. She was somewhat startled to discover Harold absent from their bed, but surmising her husband was probably in the music room – something he was apt to do when suffering from a mild case of insomnia – she rose to head downstairs and check on him; however, a light from the end of the corridor caught her eye. Creeping down the hallway to the nursery, she found him nestled in the rocker, Beth situated in the nook of his elbow, whispering quiet words of affection to their daughter as she stared, enraptured, at her father. Harold, obviously equally smitten, had cradled her closer and deposited soft kisses on her cheeks and forehead before gravely promising he would never allow any harm to come to her. Marian's vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. Although she had seen many sides of her husband, this particular one caused her heart to swell. Stealing away, she left father and daughter alone to bond, but when Harold slid beneath their bedcovers again an hour later, Marian was awake and waiting. Having shed her nightclothes, she drew her surprised husband into her arms and proceeded to thoroughly express her love and affection to the father of her children.

Marian had taken such joy in becoming a mother, but watching Harold as a father had brought her a happiness she never knew existed. The mischievous music professor had always been the epitome of a devoted husband, escorting her home in the evenings from the library, surprising her with a trinket every now and then for no other reason than because he could and expressing his affection through both words and actions.

As much as she loved her husband, she hadn't realized she was capable of the strong emotions Harold's paternal side stirred in her. Perhaps it because her own childhood had been filled with the steady and comforting presence of a father who communicated his love to his children: Marian had never doubted her father's quiet pride or unwavering support for his daughter. As Eli grew from infant to toddler, the librarian had observed her husband mirror those same qualities. Inquisitive and boisterous, Eli often exasperated any adult in his vicinity. Marian had initially experienced a tinge of alarm as she sought ways to channel their son's enthusiasm into more acceptable channels. But it was Harold, quickly recognizing his own traits in his son, who had stepped in and began guiding his son with an encouraging, yet firm, hand, steering him away from solid mischief.

Realizing that Eli's incessant questioning could weary even his own mother during the long summer days, Harold had announced to Marian that rather than keeping Eli at home, he would bring him to the Emporium. Marian had initially been wary of such a course, but after one day spent in his father's company, the young boy had arrived home ready to find his way to bed. Covered in silver polish as he was, Marian had glanced askance at Harold, who gave her a wink and replied, "There were a lot of bells that needed polishing," before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of lemonade.

Marian's soft questioning of her son during his lengthy bath revealed a content salesman-in-training who wanted to do what Daddy did when he became a grown up. A smile warming her heart, Marian lovingly tucked her son in bed and deposited a kiss on his forehead before joining Harold for dinner. As her husband regaled her with stories of how he had shown Eli the proper way to use a rag and can of polish to bring the bells to a shine, Marian felt her heart swell with love. As easy as it would have been for Harold to send their son to the fishing hole for the day or simply delegate him to his mother's care, he didn't. Instead, he chose to be an attentive father, taking time from his own day to ensure Eli knew he was a part of his father's life.

The Emporium excursion became a weekly ritual, and Marian knew no greater happiness than receiving a goodbye kiss from the two men in her life and then watching as they retreated down the sidewalk, Harold's hat perched on his head, papers in hand and Eli trailing beside him, his own little hat – a miniature of his father's at the boy's insistence – doffed at the same angle.

Walking to bassinet, Marian reached down and gathered her daughter in her arms, cooing softly at Beth as the tiny infant gazed back. The little girl lifted her hand toward her mother and gurgled, eliciting a pleased smile from Marian. Beth gazed back, her tiny, brown curls falling in front of her eyes exactly like her father's were wont to do. But aside from the hair color, Marian felt an absurd thrill shoot through her as her miniature mirror image returned her happy smile. One evening, about a month after Beth's birth, Harold had confided to Marian that their daughter had indeed inherited her mother's gorgeous features, and as such, he was going to have his work cut out for him as she grew older. Marian had let out a shocked laugh, but privately agreed with her husband's assessment. She, herself, had never been one to chase after boys, but before moving to River City, she'd had her fair share of interested suitors. That had all changed once she'd settled in Iowa, but upon reflection, Marian realized those few years of loneliness were insignificant compared to the joy and happiness she now possessed.

Returning Beth to her bassinet, Marian turned to inquire about Eli's supposed transgression, but decided against voicing her question when she observed Harold holding the offending mouthpiece to his eye and squinting into it. Smothering her smile, she released a good-natured sigh and chose to leave him to his task. After almost eight years of marriage, Marian was used to her husband's one-track mind by now and was well aware of the futility of trying to coax anything out of him when he was preoccupied. Retrieving her book from the hallway table, she left Harold and retreated to their bedroom to change into something more comfortable. As much as she strived to set the proper example for her children – always aware that as the wife of the town's resident commodity, she was subject to higher standards – Marian loved the freedom the fashions of this new decade afforded her. She had secretly celebrated when the tight corsets of her youth had fallen to the wayside and were replaced with the girdle and was thrilled to discover the changing fashion allowed for a looser, less-constrictive undergarment. The skirts were considerably shorter than what she was accustomed to, but when she'd caught Harold eyeing her ankles with an appreciative grin, she'd quickly gone out and purchased two more.

With the warm weather now fully upon River City, Marian wanted nothing more than to shed the trappings of respectability and slip into the thinnest slip of a dress she had. With Eli at her mother's, she could do so without any fear of impropriety. The sheer cotton dress she had purchased in Davenport a month ago would be perfect for today, the loose sleeves and v-neck affording her a welcome respite from the sweltering heat outside. Quickly disrobing, she returned her skirt and blouse to the closet and retrieved her day dress.

XXX

When Marian returned downstairs, she found Harold still struggling with the mouthpiece. Her curiosity finally got the better of her, so she took a seat next to him and stared at the rounded silver stem that lay in his tanned palm.

"Harold, what _are_ you doing?"

Releasing a defeated sigh, Harold laid the offending object aside and looked at his wife with evident exasperation. "I'm trying to get an eraser stub out of the stem of this mouthpiece."

Marian's eyes widened in disbelief. "An eraser?" Puzzled by his answer, she frowned. "How ever did an eraser end up inside your mouthpiece?"

Harold's brow furrowed even as his mouth set into a thin line. "The boy put it there," he muttered, clearly irritated.

Marian felt a smile tug at her lips. "The boy? Are you, perhaps, referring to our son?" When he didn't answer, Marian knew that must be the case. Since his fifth birthday, Eli had developed a penchant for all sorts of mischief. While never malicious or intentionally disobedient, their inquisitive son had the uncanny knack for creating havoc with his innocent curiosity.

Marian could still recall enjoying a pleasant afternoon several weeks ago in late April. With Beth happily spending a day at her grandmother's home and Eli in the care of his Uncle Winthrop, she and Harold had eagerly taken advantage of the privacy afforded them and gratefully indulged in a glass of tea and stimulating conversation – something that had been sorely missing in their marriage ever since Eli had discovered the wonders of Peter Pan in late February. Initially, Harold had eagerly taken to his son's newest fascination and, privately, Marian thought it rather fitting that her husband would feel an affinity for a little boy who never grew up. But it turned out even Harold had his limits. After several weeks of swordfights and pirates, he was craving more adult conversation.

But as it so often happened, the couple's intellectual chat soon morphed into flirtatious banter, which eventually transformed into heated glances before resulting in the two lying entwined in each other's arms along the seat of the sofa. Marian felt her cheeks grow warm as she remembered the passionate desires Harold had murmured in her ear as his hands traced a familiar path along her body. When his lips began to nibble at the soft skin of her neck, she sighed in satisfied surrender, bringing her hands around his back to press him closer against her. Harold slid a seductive hand beneath Marian's hem, trailing upward until he came to the lace of her garter. His eyes never leaving hers, he easily unfastened it and allowed his fingers to teasingly brush against her smooth thigh even as his other hand crept higher.

"Marian," he whispered heatedly against her skin while bringing his other hand up to caress her soft curves. Just as Harold's fingers closed possessively over her breast, the front door slammed open, and Eli's excited voice filled the front hallway.

Startled, Marian and Harold had bolted upright on the sofa, quickly putting a respectable distance between them as their son eagerly bounded into the parlor, holding a line of trout.

"Look what I caught!" he exclaimed proudly.

Catching her breath and hastily lowering her skirt, Marian had lovingly bestowed the appropriate attention to her son's prize catch while trying to maneuver him and the dripping fish to the kitchen, as Harold excused himself, citing the need to step outside and get a breath of fresh air. The heated look he cast at her as he departed had not been lost on Marian, and later that evening, the two had eagerly resumed their conversation once the children had fallen asleep.

Marian smiled broadly as she recalled the intensity of that evening and gazed at her husband with affection. Even after eight years of marriage, he could still make her heart race as fast as he had when they were courting. And now that she was privy to the knowledge of what Harold's ardent glances truly meant, she found herself suddenly quite grateful for the privacy the occasional afternoons afforded them. Marian wondered if she might be able to persuade her husband to abandon his futile struggle with the mouthpiece and instead accompany her upstairs for an altogether different pursuit. She was just about to suggest such a thing when Harold stood and raised the silver stem high in the air, gazing into it once more. After a moment, he let out an amused chuckle and turned to Marian. "I know I should punish him for toying with this after I told him not to," he explained, "but honestly, I'm impressed that he managed to lodge it in there so well. The boy might just have a future in taxidermy!"

Marian laughed at her husband's amused observation and nodded her head. "He does seem to have a knack for mischief."

Harold grinned back at her. "A knack? I'd say it's more a God-given talent!" he opined in good-natured defeat. "My mother would say this is my penance for a boisterous childhood."

Smiling, Marian rose and captured his hand with her own. "I don't know if I would go that far, darling," she teased. "But he certainly does keep us on our toes!"

"That he does," Harold chuckled. "Fortunately, I think I've whittled enough of it away to dislodge it with a good burst of air." Then he frowned. "However, after that pesky cold last week, I don't think my lungs are going to be up to the task."

Marian nodded in sympathetic understanding and ran a loving along hand along her husband's neck. "My poor darling. Are they still sore?"

"A bit," Harold conceded. "But I imagine some tender affection from a loving wife might make them hurt less." He gave her an impish smile.

Marian giggled and swatted his arm affectionately. "Honestly, Harold!"

"You can't blame a man for trying," he told her with an unapologetic grin.

"Darling, I don't think anyone would ever accuse you of not trying!"

Giving her a roguish wink, Harold nodded. "You're probably right, my dear, but then again, who could fault me with a wife as lovely as you? Especially when you're wearing an outfit as fetching as that."

Marian felt her heart quicken at Harold's compliment, but merely smiled in response and continued to watch him. Always the charmer, her husband never failed to have a quick retort ready for whatever she might say; however, after eight years she had become quite adept at having a steady supply of rejoinders for him, as well. But every so often, she found all that was required to silence her ebullient husband was a simple, sly smile and a well-placed gaze. True to form, Harold's flattery died away a moment later and he paused, content to let his wife emerge the victor in their flirtatious banter. Stepping closer, he chuckled and raised his hands in silent surrender.

"As usual, you are correct, my dear little librarian. I _always_ try," he conceded and slid an arm around her waist. Gazing down at her in amusement, he bestowed a soft kiss to her upturned face. "You are too tempting, my dear."

He glanced at the mouthpiece in his hand again and stepped away with a reluctant sigh. "Unfortunately, this little devil requires my immediate attention. Otherwise, I'd happily spend the afternoon demonstrating just how tempting you truly are!"

Feeling a blush rise to her cheeks, Marian averted her gaze. How Harold could still make her blush, even after two children, was beyond her comprehension! But he managed to do so. She shook her head at her own foolishness and collecting herself once more, looked inquiringly at her husband. "Is there anything I can do to help, darling?"

At first, Harold motioned as if to wave away her suggestion, but then he stopped and appeared as if he were considering her offer. After a brief silence, he cocked his head and grinned. "Actually Marian, there is."

Knowing her husband as she did, Marian gazed at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate. A moment later, he extended the stem to her. "I can't get enough air to push through this, but you shouldn't have any problems. What I need you to do is put your lips around my mouthpiece and blow – hard."

Harold's innocent, yet delightfully decadent, suggestion set her heart racing, and Marian simply couldn't help herself: Arching a mischievous eyebrow at him, she graced him with a seductive smile and placed a hand over her heart while affecting a shocked tone, "Why, Professor Hill!"

Harold gazed at her in bewilderment, her provocative tone clearly confusing him.

"What?" he asked, truly confused.

"I don't believe I've ever had such a delightfully-decadent offer," she smirked.

Harold's mouth dropped open, and he stared, flabbergasted. When he finally recovered his voice, his amazement was clearly evident. "Why, Marian!"

Marian laughed and leaned closer to bestow a gentle kiss against his cheek. "I'm merely teasing you, darling. But, I simply couldn't resist the opportunity." She gave him a cheeky smile. "After all, it's not every day a woman receives an offer like that!"

Harold's face split into a wide grin and he shook his head in disbelief. "Marian Paroo Hill, I'm speechless!"

Marian glanced at him with a sly smile. "Oh, really?"

Harold nodded, clearly waiting for her elaborate.

"Well then, as that happens so infrequently, I'd do well to take advantage of the opportunity!" she replied and plucked the offending mouthpiece from his hand. Keeping her eyes steadily trained on his, she moved to the end table, gently placing it aside before slowly sashaying back to where her husband stood, watching in rapt fascination.

Marian was thrilled to see a familiar gleam dance through her husband's eyes as he followed her every move. When she stood before him once more, she leaned in and deposited a tender kiss against the hollow of his throat. She smiled in satisfaction as she felt a mild shudder pass through him, but her triumph was lost in her own trembling when she felt Harold's hand slide along her hip before coming to rest against a particularly-sensitive area. She softly murmured his name as he snaked his other arm around her waist, pulling her against him as they tumbled to the couch. When she came to lie beneath him, he grinned and slid his leg over hers, effectively trapping her in his embrace.

"If I'm not mistaken, Madam Librarian, we found ourselves in a similar situation only a few months ago," he whispered and began to nuzzle her neck as they sank deeper into the cushions. "But this time, I plan on finishing what we start."

Giggling at his suggestive words, Marian wrapped her arms around Harold's waist sighing in pleasure when he began to trail heated kisses along her smooth skin while his hands traced delicious patterns against her thigh. Raising her hips to his, Marian pressed closer and was rewarded when Harold's teeth gently nipped at her neck. As she deftly undid the buckle on his belt and pulled his shirtsleeves from his trousers, the librarian felt her husband's hand snake under the hem of her skirt and close around her upper thigh. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and ran her hands along Harold's warm skin.

"I'm going to hold you to that, Professor Hill," Marian promised with a sly smile.

Harold regarded her with a seductive grin. "I'm counting on it, Madame Librarian." And then his mouth was on hers once again, and Marian was content to surrender to her husband's considerable charms, all thoughts of mouthpieces and conversation quickly disappearing from her mind.


End file.
